


Observations on a Romance of Fools

by hipsterseverywhere



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Declarations Of Love, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Angst, Jealousy, M/M, Pining, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:21:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25191580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hipsterseverywhere/pseuds/hipsterseverywhere
Summary: Over the course of several years, different heroes of the Resistance observe the way Poe Dameron and Finn stumble their way through falling in love.
Relationships: Leia Organa/Han Solo, Poe Dameron/Finn
Comments: 8
Kudos: 31





	Observations on a Romance of Fools

**Author's Note:**

> It's been years since I posted my last story, but I randomly became re-obsessed with Stormpilot these past few months in quarantine. So I decided to take a stab at a new story! Plus, as a screenwriter I wanted to brush up on my prose work. 
> 
> The plan is to tell six different stories from six different POVs, all of them observing Poe and Finn's burgeoning romance--especially Poe's very obvious pining. Two characters per movie, so the first two are about Han & Leia during and right after TFA. The second two characters will be BB-8 and Rose Tico around the time of TLJ. The last two will be Zorii Bliss (or Chewie, I have not decided) and Rey during/after TROS.
> 
> Then one last chapter that will tie up the romance in a nice little bow ;)
> 
> Hopefully this won't take more than a few weeks to finish--enjoy!

** HAN **

Han watches as Leia walks away, back into the chaos of D’Qar and the Resistance as it readies for the assault on Starkiller Base. Not five seconds after saying goodbye to him, she is already fielding questions from three different aides who seem to have materialized out of thin air. She is, as ever, the calm eye of a hurricane of activity and nervous energy.

Han’s body, weighed down with age and scars, aches at the sight of her retreating figure. Even after all these years, Han has never been able to shake the sense of inadequacy he feels just by being around her. He’s a scruffy, two-bit smuggler who fell in love with a princess who became a war hero who became a Jedi (despite her arguments to the contrary) who became the leader of a reborn Rebellion. For a time, that feeling of inadequacy felt insignificant compared to the towering achievement that was their love. Their family. But then horror and heartbreak came crashing through their door—feeling at once both shocking and inevitable.

Except that now Leia uses her heartbreak as a tool to climb new heights, to fight against the cutting winds that threaten to blow her and all the good in the galaxy away. Han uses his heartbreak as a weight, an excuse to let himself sink back down into the murky depths from which he first arose.

In some of the lowest moments since their separation, Han wondered if Ben’s fall from grace was because of him. His failings and his flaws. Perhaps it was Han’s own darkness that tainted Leia’s light, that created the crack in Ben’s armor which Snoke then tore open in order to slither inside his mind.

Once, just once, Han said out loud to Chewie: _if Leia had loved a better man, her child would never have gone to the Dark Side._

Chewie, ever the consummate co-pilot, then snatched the whiskey out of Han’s hands and told him to go to sleep.

Han shakes himself out of his self-flagellating stupor. He knows it will do none of them any good, not at such a critical time when so many lives hang in the balance. So, he turns to check on Finn—the sweet, bumbling fool—only to discover that he has familiar company.

Poe Dameron has come to wish Finn luck.

At the briefing, Han was struck by Poe’s calm fortitude—he carried himself with authority and poise that was in stark contrast to his childhood self. Young Poe was all wild eyes, toothy grins, and twitchy fingers. A born-and-bred pilot whose gaze was always up to the stars and sky where his mother had carved out her legend. Leia told him once that, after Shara’s death, Poe fell into a rebellious phase—apparently, he had gone off to be a spice runner. If Han were a better man, he would have tracked Poe down and dragged him by the ear onto the _Millennium Falcon_ and brought him back to poor Kes Dameron.

Thankfully, Poe seems to have sorted himself out. Leia no doubt played a large role in that. But strangely, all of Poe’s calm fortitude that he had in the briefing is nowhere to be found right now. The way he talks with Finn is more reminiscent of his younger self: bursting with energy that has nowhere to go. Eventually, Poe settles a hand on Finn’s arm and leaves it there like a clamp.

“I know it must be tough, going back into First Order territory,” Poe says to Finn, who watches him raptly. “If I were you, I’d be scared out of mind, even with Han Solo and Chewbacca backing you up.”

“Oh, I’m definitely scared out of my mind,” Finn blurts out, humorlessly. “But I have to do this. For Rey.”

Poe smiles with a sort of sad understanding. “I get it. Just…be careful, okay?”

“I will. Same to you, Poe.”

The two men grab each other in a quick embrace. They extricate themselves, and Finn proceeds to grab a case of weapons to carry into the _Falcon._ With a fond softness, Poe briefly watches Finn as he walks up the gangplank before turning around to head back to his X-Wing.

_Oh_ , Han thinks. _It’s like that._

Han lets a rush of nostalgia come over him. Memories of his early days with the Rebellion when he was constantly making up flimsy excuses to speak with Leia. How she would smile at the sight of him, only to remember that she had to put on a good show so immediately started insulting everything about him. His hair, his face, his ship. And Han would play along and give as good as he got, being intoxicated by their push-pull.

Ah, to be a young Rebel in love.

“Hey, Dameron,” Han says as he jogs after Poe. Poe turns around to acknowledge him, but he’s clearly surprised to be addressed.

“Han,” Poe says, but then catches himself. “Uh, Mister Solo. General Solo? Wait, does your old rank even apply here?”

Han waves a flippant hand. “Forget all that nonsense. What’s the deal with you and the kid?”

Poe blinks.

“You and Finn.”

A smile almost breaks out on Poe’s face, but he tamps it down, as if realizing how silly that would seem. Once he arranges his expression into something more neutral, Poe says, “What do you mean? He saved my life and finished my mission. In my book, that makes him a damn good friend.”

“Just a friend, huh?”

Han can’t help but enjoy the way Poe gets a little nervous here. He remembers now how much he enjoyed pushing Poe’s buttons when the kid was actually still a kid, back during the times he and Leia would visit his parents on Yavin IV. Poe was more-or-less born with a cocky swagger, so Han felt that was cutting him down to size was actually doing Shara and Kes a favor.

“Yep. Just a friend. One that happened to rescue me from Kylo Ren and got me off the _Finalizer_.”

Poe says it flippantly, but it hits Han like a punch to the gut. He recalls hearing the story from Finn after leaving Takodana—by that point, Finn had given up the pretense of being a member of the Resistance and came clean about how he got mixed up in all of this. Han felt sick hearing how Kylo Ren—Ben—was inflicting so much pain upon people he knew. He knows for a fact that Poe holds no ill will towards Leia or Han for what Ben did to him, but that doesn’t assuage Han’s own feelings on the matter. Perhaps that was part of why Han is now part of the Resistance: he owes it to the Galaxy to fix some of the messes that his errant son has caused.

And perhaps that’s why he’s now standing in front of Poe, trying to give him _love advice_ out of all damn things. Guilt has always been a powerful motivator for Han.

“You know, I met Leia on the Death Star,” Han says, playing it casual. “I rescued her while I was wearing Stormtrooper armor. Lots of blasterfire. Plus a run-in with a nasty trash compactor. Hell of a meet-cute.”

Poe goes a little red. “Oh. That’s, uh, real romantic. Is there a reason you’re telling me this?”

It’s an honest question, which makes Han chuckle. Poe either has no idea that he’s smitten or is actively trying to suppress the notion. But Han can’t fault Poe there—he didn’t exactly catch onto his feelings for Leia right away either. Still, Han feels he owes it to Poe to at least guide him in the right direction.

Han claps a hand on Poe’s shoulder. “All I’m saying is that important people can come into your life in the weirdest of ways. Leia would say it’s the Force at work. If it is…well, the Force has a kriffed up sense of humor.”

Poe just stares at him blankly. Han takes this as a sign to continue.

“But when those people come into your life, you gotta recognize them for what they are. And then you gotta hold onto them. You know what I’m saying?”

Poe nods, dazed. Han smiles.

“Just a little bit of advice from one hotshot pilot to another. Fly safe, kid.”

With a parting wink, Han turns and heads back for the _Falcon_ , where Finn and Chewie have finished loading the ship. Finn has clearly been watching some part of Han’s conversation with Poe—his brow is furrowed with curiosity. As Han walks up the gangplank, Finn falls in step with him.

“What were you talking to Poe about?” Finn asks with genuinely innocent interest. Definitely a sweet, bumbling fool.

“Nothing you have to worry about just yet,” Han says as he glances back at Poe. The pilot is walking back towards his X-Wing, shaking his head as if wondering: _what the hell just happened?_ “C’mon, we have a girl to save and a planet to blow up.”

Allowing a moment for Chewie to finish entering the ship, Han hits the button to make the gangplank ascend. Han shrugs off his earlier amusement like a cloak, knowing that he must now turn his attention to the mission at hand. There’s so much they have to do. Han wonders if he’ll see Ben. If he’ll have the opportunity to get through to him. If he’s even capable of saving his son from himself.

Han doesn’t know. But he has to try.

Han heads for the cockpit. Despite the severity of what lies ahead, he spares a thought to hope that things work out for the two lovebirds.

* * *

**LEIA**

Leia has never been one for false modesty. She knows she has many strengths: diplomacy, strategy, and leadership, for starters. She’s a great shot and a pretty damn good pilot. She even knows her way around a lightsaber, if the amount of times she used to put Luke on his ass is any indication.

But one thing she has never been good at is mourning.

There is not a day that goes by, even thirty years later, where she doesn’t think about Alderaan at least once. The place that took her in, claimed her as own of their own, and raised her to embrace and nurture her many strengths. Witnessing its destruction up close, knowing that her adoptive parents and so many of her friends perished in an instant, is a moment that will never stop haunting her. Yet for all the horror of that day, Leia didn’t want to let it consume her. There was always so much work to be done, battles to be fought, hearts and minds to win over. To stop and reflect on the depth of her loss would be to stall the momentum of her work, of the war. And Leia refused to slow the Rebellion down.

But after the war, there wasn’t enough activity, enough danger, to fend off the grief that she had pushed down for so long. Soon, there were moments when it all hit her at once. As if a speeder had cut a corner and rammed into her before she had any time to react, to prepare her defenses and brace for impact. In those moments, Leia felt a deep, guttural pain, as if a tiny sun inside of her chest had collapsed in on itself and started to pull her very being into it with its inescapable gravity. Leia would fall to the ground, wracked with awful sobs that never seemed to end, that wouldn’t stop even if she were to die right there—a corpse doomed to grieve for all eternity.

Sometimes, when this happened, Leia would be alone. It was just her and her agony, cutting her off from the rest of the world. Even the Force could do nothing to ease her sorrow.

But other times, Han was there. More real and present than anything else in the galaxy. He would drop whatever it is that he was doing and simply hold her tight to his own body. He would rub her back and whisper into her ear:

“It’s okay, you’re okay, I’m here. I love you. I’m with you. I love you.”

All pretense of the aloof scoundrel, the reluctant war hero would be forgotten. In those moments, he was just her husband, the man who loved her more than anything and whom she loved in return.

The last time Han had been a witness to Leia’s pain, Ben was with them. Sweet, young Ben, his Darkness, his rage, and his hatred not yet apparent. Not yet deadly. Ben quietly walked over to Leia, wrapped up in Han’s arms, and put a small, soft hand on Leia’s knee. He was a boy trying to comfort his mother; unable to comprehend the depth of her loss yet recognizing it all the same.

And now they’re both gone.

Ben, to Snoke’s seductions and promises of power. No longer human but something twisted and cruel.

Han, to Ben’s own hands. A broken, lifeless body turned to ash in Starkiller’s burning wake.

Leia wonders when the grief will sneak up on her this time. Will it wait until after the war—assuming she even survives this one—when she has a moment to breathe and let her defenses down? Or maybe this time it will just eat away at her slowly, taking bits of her life force until there’s nothing left, all before she realizes that she was missing any at all.

Leia is really no good at mourning. So now she plays to one of her strengths: being a leader. A protector.

Currently, Leia is in the D’Qar medbay—or what’s left of it, now that evacuation protocols have been enacted. She stands vigil before one of Ben’s other victims—one only barely luckier than Han was:

Finn.

A former Stormtrooper turned hero who took a lightsaber to his back for his trouble. Doctor Kalonia had informed Leia that despite the severity of the injury, Finn suffered no permanent damage. That with rest and constant bacta infusions, he’d fully recover. A miracle, Doctor Kalonia said.

Leia knows that there are no such things as miracles. She’s not entirely sure how just yet, but she can feel it in her bones that Finn has a great purpose to serve. That he is a critical ingredient of the elixir the Force has concocted to tip the galaxy back towards Light. Him, along with Rey. And Poe. Her heir apparent, as far as the Resistance was concerned.

As if on cue, Poe enters the room, and is a bit flabbergasted to find his General here. Before he has a chance to say anything, Leia raises a hand to dismiss any sense of military etiquette.

“I’m surprised I beat you here, Poe,” Leia says with a wry smile that she doesn’t fully feel. She heard from Doctor Kalonia that Poe had been visiting Finn every chance he got over the past few days. If Poe’s glowing testimony of Finn’s bravery during his post-Jakku debrief wasn’t enough to tip Leia off, that little tidbit from Kalonia certainly sealed the deal.

“That’s not fair—you’ve got me running around with all of this evac prep,” Poe says with a chuckle as he approaches. “Now I see you’re just trying to get alone time with the Hero of the Resistance.”

“Guilty as charged.” Leia watches the way Poe’s eyes hone in on Finn’s sleeping face as he takes a seat by the bed. “Maybe I should leave you two alone.”

Poe stammers in a way he hasn’t since he was a kid: “Hah, uh… Don’t be ridiculous, Gen—Leia. We can share. Finn, I mean. Er, not that he’s some prize to be won or anything. I mean his company. His comatose company.” Poe winces and Leia smirks, less out of her own amusement and more as a perfunctory motion. A way to show Poe that while she may be suffering silently, she can still tease him when she wants to.

“I appreciate the generosity.”

A quiet moment passes between them. They both regard Finn, for very different reasons.

Eventually, Poe asks: “So, why are you here?”

Leia regards her fleet commander carefully. She wonders, for a moment, how much she wants to confide in Poe. Should she tell him that it is easier to watch over someone else? To put her thoughts and energies into the plights of other people, so that she doesn’t have to confront her own? Is it appropriate to acknowledge her grief, her rage, her guilt—all of it swirled up together, blended into something thick and suffocating—when her own progeny is responsible for so many people’s pain and loss?

But that wouldn’t be fair to him. Poe has suffered enough at the hands of her son. The proof being the shaky, quiet way he told her about Ben’s invasion of his mind and the quickness of how his face paled upon learning of the origin of Finn’s injury. She is grateful, eternally grateful, for the way Poe has managed to compartmentalize her son from her own personhood. Not for the first time, she thinks Poe does this because he knows she cannot. She could never.

Eventually, Leia carves out the less difficult parts of the truth to offer to Poe. The parts meant to give him hope. “I have this feeling. That Finn is going to be a big part of how we win this war. Bigger than the role he’s already played.”

Poe accepts this with a certain kind of awe. He chews on it. It’s not often she talks about her more…esoteric skillset. “The Force is telling you that?”

“In a way. It’s not exactly clear on the hows and whys. Communing with the Force is an art, not a science. I hoped that taking a good look at him might give me a clearer picture. No such luck, but I’m certain that I’m right.”

Poe smiles, first at her and then at Finn. “I knew this guy is something special.”

Leia chooses not to mention that she senses great things for Poe too. The last thing she needs to do is contribute more to his ego. “That he is. I’m grateful the Force brought you two together.”

Poe laughs, more to himself than anything. “Han said—”

He freezes, eyes widening with shame and contrition. His hand twitches, and Leia imagines that he had meant to clamp it over his own mouth.

“General, I didn’t meant to—”

Leia closes her eyes. She wills herself to think about her last conversation with Han. She clings to the feeling of hope she had then, that perhaps things would turn out all right in the end. In that moment, she couldn’t tell if it was the Force speaking to her or simply her own delusions. But either way, it made her feel good.

Leia tries to hold onto the good, lest it slip from her fingers and disappear forever.

“That’s quite alright. I don’t need you tiptoeing around me like I’m some frail old thing. Tell me: what did that laserbrain say to you?”

Poe’s eyes go wide again, but this time he breaks out into a tiny, incredulous laugh. He takes a beat to collect himself.

“Well, right before we left for Starkiller, he said that important people have a strange way of coming into a person’s life. He said that you called it the Force at work. He also told me you guys met on the Death Star. And apparently a trash compactor was involved? Not sure they put _that_ in the history books.”

It’s been quite some time since Leia has felt flabbergasted, but here she is…flabbergasted. Leia does the math in her head. She realizes that he and Poe must have spoken right after she left him.

The thought of Han going out of his way to provide Poe with some fond memories of their bicker-laden romance cuts through the swirl of emotions she’s been carrying inside of her. That suffocating thickness suddenly lifts for a brief, wonderful moment. And so, Leia laughs. She laughs so hard and for so long that a tear forms in the corner of her eye.

Poe stares at her like she’s lost his mind. Which isn’t that far off. Leia keeps laughing.

Eventually, the laughter subsides. Leia, still smiling, catches her breath.

For the past several days, every time she thought of Han, it was like reopening a wound. A wound from which blood would spill out and drench her memories of him and Ben, drowning all of the joy until only the painful parts were visible above the surface. Even before Han’s death, it was difficult to think of Han in a way that didn’t make her heart hurt and her mind numb.

But for the first time in a long time, she’s able to just focus on the best parts of Han. The knack he had for seeing through the world’s artifice and the banthashit. The way he offered great kindness to people, disguised as gruff asides. His secret romantic streak.

_Han, you sly man_. _You saw it too_. Leia thinks with a great measure of pride.

Leia turns to Poe, who is still adorably confused.

“Thank you, Poe. You just reminded me of some lovely times with my dumb fool of a husband. I really needed that.”

Poe clearly wants to know more, but simply smiles instead, not wanting to push.

“Reminder me later to tell you the whole story about the trash compactor. I thought I’d never get the smell of that blasted place out of my hair.”

“You betcha,” Poe says, a glimmer of excitement and intrigue in his eyes.

Leia heads for the door. She calls over her shoulder: “Now I have to see to an evacuation. Kalonia and her team should be by soon to get Finn into a bacta suit and off this planet.”

Leia turns her head back to see that Poe isn’t even looking at her—his eyes are trained to Finn’s face. She would be insulted if she weren’t so touched.

“Don’t linger too long, Commander,” Leia says, restoring some modicum of protocol. “There is still a war to be fought, after all.”

This time Poe turns to give Leia a sharp salute, “Understood, General!”

Leia nods and exits, suddenly wishing Shara were still alive so that the two of them could laugh over how lovesick her son has become.

**Author's Note:**

> Naturally, writing about Han and Leia during/after TFA would involve a fair bit of angst. I believe the following chapters will be a touch lighter...except for, y'know, Poe's painful pining because I love torturing the guy.


End file.
